


Black Mud

by ohdrey89



Series: Deductive Deviations [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, BAMF Lestrade, Band Fic, Drunk Molly, F/M, Guitars, Kinda, Lestrade Plays Guitar, Lestrolly, Mollestrade - Freeform, POV Molly Hooper, Punk Lestrade, Punk Rock, Sexy Times, Silver Fox Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdrey89/pseuds/ohdrey89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot that just came to my head of Lestrade playing a guitar cover of Black Mud by the Black Keys for his punk band's reunion show at the bar he and Molly frequent. Unf. It's hot. No sex, sort of, just sexy times. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Mud

**Author's Note:**

> I am always working on my other stuff I promise, its just that other things, this, pop into my head without my approval. You all benefit nicely though. My apologies to all the true punk fans out there, as I tried to think of a decent name for the band but probably failed miserably, if you think of something better than what I came up with please feel free to correct me in the comments and I will replace it and give credit where credit is obviously due.
> 
> I know Greg is an old punk rocker from the eighties but Punk Rock aside, the only other kind of music I usually hear when I think of Greg Lestrade that silver fox is usually sexy blues rock, why? Because it's fucking hot as hell. Every time. 
> 
> Disclaimer: We didn't create it, we're not making money from it. But that's not going to stop the ideas from coming, so here we all are anyway. We might as well live.

Molly walked through the pub and watched with subtle interest as the night’s band set up in the corner. It would prove to be an interesting evening as they promised to be an old garage punk band from the eighties. Rebel Wankerz emblazoned on the skin of their bass drum. Apparently they were big in the underground scene in London, but were even too punk for smaller labels to pick them up. The band had recorded their own labels and started their own club to play and support the young up and coming artists. This was a reunion show. Molly had texted Lestrade to see if he would come out, the atmosphere reeked of Lestrade but he had shrugged her off, claiming to be busy. She looked around at all the old punks, interwoven with teenagers at the peak of rebellion as they tried to learn from the tutelage of original rebels. Young and old chatting and bashing around inside the tiny space, ready to rock out to the wall of sound the band would produce. It had an atmosphere Molly knew Greg would have adored. He never shrugged her off before and wondered why.

That was alright, they weren’t anything remotely serious. All harmless flirting that left Molly warm and ready for more. It was all chatting and brews at the pub she was currently in, the whiskey in her belly making her pleasantly warm as she sipped the amber liquid. She was out with some mates from uni, all giggling and high pitched shouting over the din. That called for stronger alcohol. They were teasing her about how she had chosen them since her favorite detective inspector couldn’t come by for a chat. She smiled to them with a half chuckle even though she groaned internally.

She heard the scattered applause and cheers as the lights around the pub dimmed and the makeshift stage shined underneath a single spotlight announcing the band was ready to play. Sound checks and set up complete, they were ready to really thrash the place. The drummer looked poised to bash his kit, wiry muscles tense with potential energy. 

The lead vocalist stood before the mic, and tapped it to get the attention of the crowd. “I know you miserable cunts are all ready for the noise but before we shred the place in half we have a special treat for you all. As you know this is a reunion show, and we really wanted to get the original band back together. Fans will know that includes a certain someone that while he’s here tonight decided that he wasn’t up for all the riot. He’s the oldest of us, and gave up playing in the band before we started our label for working for the man, as a detective inspector for the yard.” Molly felt her mouth drop open. No. It couldn’t be. “But he wanted to still play a little something for you fuckers tonight. I tried to get him to sing, but he was a real pussy about it. So here to open for us is Greg Lestrade.” Molly tried to avoid the stares of her friends and stepped into the crowd in stupefied awe as Greg stood on stage with one of the guitars from the band strapped around his neck. There were scattered applause, and a few cheers from longtime fans of the band that missed his presence as a member. Molly watched as he shook hands of his former bandmates and turned to the microphone. 

He had always bragged about playing the guitar, and playing in a punk band in the eighties but Molly always thought he was joking. 

Greg laughed at the applause and leaned down into the microphone, his rumble of a voice tumbling out of the speakers. Molly felt goosebumps crawl up her spine. “I know you all are expected these morons to blow the speakers tonight but before they get going how about we start with a cover of something… smoother.” Greg lowered his voice to a register that was somewhere between sex and chocolate as he finished his little speech. Molly blushed wondering if it was obvious how much her knees were struggling to keep her upright. Greg counted off a slow rhythm and the drummer began the song.

Molly listened as he started playing an instrumental rock song she was a little familiar with, something by the black keys. That she knew, and didn’t know Lestrade had any idea who they were. The silver fox may be gorgeous but he was still old and set in his ways. She thought. She’d never tease him for being old again as his fingers bent the guitar strings and dripped bleeding sex like honey from the speakers. The drummer idly banging out the beat to his playing, while the lead guitarist kept harmony. By the end of the solo, Lestrade was confident enough to look out into the crowd for a smile. He scanned the faces and stopped with laser like precision on Molly. He grinned from underneath his fringe with a wink. A few eyes fell on Molly, wondering what drew his attention to her, Molly merely blushed. Her face still dropped in surprise, though the rest of her body seemed hypnotized to the rhythm. Greg let the song end on one last strum of the guitar bending the strings under the whammy bar and shaking the guitar until the chord died from the speakers. All around there were cheers though what Greg played was hardly punk rock. He accepted applause, smiling so hard his cheeks must have hurt, all teeth and pink blush. He waved away the applause as it grew and hugged his mates, before hopping down from the stage. The band announced they would play after a five minute break, and talked to Lestrade, he laughed and hugged them before stepping away from the stage entirely.

Molly watched Greg from afar as he made his way through the crowd. He shook hands of old fans he recognized, laughed and thanked the admiration of his new fans who hadn’t known he had been a member of the band before tonight. He made his excuses and Molly gulped as he made a beeline straight for her. Her friends twittered and called out jokes to her as he approached. Molly waved them away as her friends scattered to watch as Molly was approached by the silver guitar god of the evening.

“Hey Molls.” Greg gave her a boyish, crooked smirk, ego boosted from having performed on stage. He was dressed in a white black striped button down that was rolled up at the elbows and hung open to show the heather grey t-shirt he wore underneath. Jeans and scuffed black shoes polished him off in the best/worst way. To put it bluntly, Molly thought he looked delicious. 

“Hey…” Molly muttered, her jaw still dropped open in surprise. One of her friends elbowed her into action. “You did great!” Molly complimented smiling. 

“Yeah? Thanks! Sorry I had to fib about being busy.” Greg apologized sheepishly. He had in truth been busy, but she guessed playing with his band was hardly what he counted as busy. 

“That’s alright. I enjoyed the show.” Molly smiled gesturing towards the stage with a blush. 

“Really?” Greg questioned a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How much?” He asked with a rakish grin. 

Molly didn’t spare words, but simply launched herself at the Detective Inspector, covering his lips with hers. Greg grumbled in surprise before it died on a groan as he returned the kiss, his wide, warm hand tilting Molly’s head back to allow himself better access to her sweet lips. He kissed like the silver-haired devil he was, all sweet sin and passionate heat. Greg plied her lips open and teased while sparing nothing in the nibbles he flirtatiously left on her bottom lip. Molly's arm wrapped around the man's neck as she lost her balance. His arm came around her waist to keep her from falling as Molly's knees gave out. Kissing Lestrade was like listening to the music he played. Oozing sweet honey and possibilities. She broke apart with a whimper, and met Greg’s hooded eyes clouded with lust. Yeah, that look wasn’t going to get old any time soon.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Molly pleaded, biting her lip. Greg's eyes only grew darker as he stared at her lips. That was how much she liked it. 

“God yes.” Greg rumbled. 

Neither Molly nor Greg heard the applause or teasing from the band or Molly’s mates as they wove through the bar and out into the cold air. Finally the flirting was over and Molly would get more than smiles and farewells from the detective inspector tonight as they drove through London to her flat. 

That night as they gasped and moaned in the moonlight that streamed in from the curtains of Molly’s bedroom, Greg would show her that his fingers were talented at more things than just guitar playing. He played her better than any six-stringed instrument. Molly only wondered if his mouth was just as good at singing as it was at giving her orgasm upon orgasm that never seemed to end. 

Molly smirked to herself in the morning as she brought the poor exhausted bloke his tea, glad that she had managed to scoop up such a multi-faceted silver fox.

**Author's Note:**

> *lights cigarette* Let me know if that was as good for you all as it was for me. I would love to watch that man just drag notes out of a guitar, like long resonant orgasms... okay I'll stop there before this gets to be too much, or too personal. Hope this improves your Mondays out there in the internet world.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are our currency of love, spread the wealth around.


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